Good Night
by Demzill
Summary: She doesn't try to look too deep into how well they've hidden this small, one bedroom apartment with its kitchen/living room and a wonderful view of the office block next door, because looking into it means admitting there is something here to hide.
1. Premise

Keeping the fact that she and Booth have been practically living together a secret from everyone - Angela and Sweets especially, has been a test both are proud to be passing. Now, that isn't to say they iwant/i to hide their... situation, it just seems easier than explaining to everyone - Angela and Sweets especially, that no, they aren't dating, nor are they having sex, or even kissing.

They simply have gotten used to each other's company; late nights working on cases and eating Chinese takeaway that ends with them falling asleep together either on the couch in her office or Booth's apartment, waking up with Booth spooned protectively behind her, encasing her between him and the couch, in-between case trips to the diner and during-case car rides had led them to this.

They still have their own, separate apartments for when they're needed, but most of their time is spent at the hidden, third, shared apartment, and bought under fake names with cash. She doesn't try to look too deep into how well they've hidden this small, one bedroom apartment with its kitchen/living room and a wonderful view of the office block next door, because looking into it means admitting there iis/i something here to hide. And really, there isn't. It's just two people sleeping in the same bed.

For comfort.

Luckily, however, before she can begin to panic, wonder if this apartment is a bad idea, if they should just go back to being partners who don't sleep in the same bed, Booth enters, stumbling, scratching idly at a bandage on his cheek from an encounter with a knife-wielding perp and the paperwork and interviewing that comes with knife-wielding perps. The FBI agent drops down onto the bed, wriggling out of his jacket and curling an arm around the Anthropologist and tugging her down, her back to his chest and she just... forgets.

She forgets about the panic, the 'should they, shouldn't they?', what they're trying to hide with the fake names and just relaxes back into him with a hum, eyes sliding shut as his face buries against the back of her neck.

"G'Night, Bones."

"Goodnight, Booth."

And it is, a good night. 


	2. Chapter 1: The First Time

**A/N: People wanted an expansion of the previous chapter/premise. This is the beginning of that. At the moment, I honestly have no idea how this is going to go. But, I'll be going with some important episodes (like this one), plus some in between-episode chapters to tell the story of Booth, Bones and how they get to their little apartment.**

* * *

The first time it happens is really a complete accident. Booth had just dropped her off at the lab, as she requested, though it takes her the whole of five minutes to realize she doesn't want to be there. She tries, grabs a couple of boxes filled with unidentified remains, sets them out on the metal table and just _stares_ for about half an hour before accepting she doesn't want to be here right now. So she leaves, clambering into her car and drives, no destination in mind until she stops, parked in the FBI's parking garage.

It takes her five seconds to realize that _yes_, this is where she needs to be right now.

Making her way through the lobby, showing the night guard her consultant's badge, she disappears into the elevator, standing in silence until she can step out onto the floor where Booth's office is located. Trudging down the corridors, she pauses for a second at the doorway, the lights are on and through the glass she can see him, back to her, sat on the floor with files spread out around him.

Knocking once, she enters without waiting for permission and without looking at the crime-scene photos, she knows he is going over both of Epps' cases, old and new, most likely trying to figure out what he missed last time that is going to let this bastard live longer. She understands his need to solve everything, she would be the same if she had missed something on a skeleton, because that's what these case files are, Booth's skeletons, but, right now, after what has happened, she wishes he wouldn't, wishes he would go home, sleep and, for at least tonight, put this behind him.

But in this area, they are the same, so he won't, and therefore, she won t either. Carefully moving some of the files, she drops down next to him, close enough that they brush against the other s shoulder or knee while stretching to grab a case file. They don't talk, but about an hour in, one of his arms curls around her shoulders, tugging her against him for a second in silent thanks before its back to figuring out what went wrong, and how they can stop it happening again.

* * *

She wakes up at about 6AM with Booth's arm around her waist, pressing her into his side. They've shifted, twisted around so they're sat up against the front of his desk. She can tell from his breathing and the way his head rests against her shoulder he is asleep.

It's... nice.

The thought instantly makes her flush, easing her way out of his grip, she practically flees his office. The flush doesn't leave her cheeks until she gets halfway home to change and have a shower before work.

She doesn't mention it when he comes by later with a case, but he doesn't either, so she can only hope he doesn't remember.


	3. Chapter 2: The Only One Who Understands

She cancels her date with David because he doesn't understand.

He doesn't know that in the last twenty-four hours her kitchen has blown up, almost killing her partner and she herself has nearly died. It's stupid and illogical, but right now she needs to assure herself that Booth didn't actually die in that explosion, and, from the look on his face when she steps back into the hospital room, he needs the assurance that she isn't a dead body somewhere, chewed up by dogs.

After getting herself seated in the plastic chair, they watch the film in a comfortable silence. This stops, however, when she begins to shift awkwardly, and, it doesn't take Booth long to notice this. Moving carefully and as silently as possible, he makes space for her on the thin hospital bed, nudging his head towards this newly-created space in invitation.

She stares for a second, remembering that night two months ago when they fell asleep in his office; she still doesn't know if he knows it happened, he has never brought it up, nor given any kind of signal to sway her thoughts one way or the other. Ignoring the protesting voice niggling from the back of her skull, she nods, moving around the bed to ease herself on next to him.

Almost instantly, his uninjured-arm slides around her shoulders, pulling her into him. Like last time, it's nice, being this close to him, she can't smell his cologne, or his usual Boothish smell because of the hospital around them, but the warmth? The warmth is all Seeley Booth, and it, like this, is exactly what she needs right now. Twisting slightly to half face towards him, her cheek presses into his shoulder, arm falling carefully over his waist.

In the morning, she'll wake up with her back to his chest, his arm curled protectively around her waist, pulling her into him. She won't freak out this time, though, partly because she's worried her attempt to flee will damage an injury, alerting him to her plot to escape, but, mostly it's because she's already past the panic. After what happened over the last few days, they've both needed this, and, for once, she's going to take all of it she can get, while it lasts. 


	4. Chapter 3: Meaning Something to Someone

By using a mental road-map of her time with Booth in New Orleans, it doesn't take long for Brennan to figure out the only possible place he could have picked up the earring that connects with the rest of her evidence. The realization, however, makes her feel a little sick, not over what he has done, because she will never be able to repay him for this act of kindness, but his trust in her is dizzying.

The fact that she might have never worked with him again, simply because he trusted she couldn't have committed that crime makes her realize that, as glad as she is to be back, to see Hodgins, Zack and especially Angela once more, she _needs_ to be with Booth right now, needs to show him that she trusts him, that what he has done for her is something she will never forget.

* * *

Standing before his front door, she has about five seconds to wonder if she should just leave him to rest before the door opens. Booth, dressed in a faded-grey t-shirt and jeans stands in front of her, "Bones?" he queries, surprised.

She simply stares for a few seconds before shifting from one foot to the other. "I'm sorry, I know you would like to rest. I just-" she pauses, frowning, unable to find words for her feelings.

He blinks, lips lifting into a small, knowing smile, "C'mon in, Bones. I got a beer with your name all over it." he replies, stepping back into the apartment.

She follows him for a second before pausing, "Thank you, Booth." she blurts out, standing just inside his doorway.

He smiles softly, moving back over, sliding a palm against her lower-back, ushering her into the apartment. "No need to thank me, Bones. I will _always_ have your back." he assures, leading her over to the couch.

Sliding down onto the offered seat, she shakes her head, lips falling into a slight frown, "I _do_ need to thank you, Booth. You... You could have lost your job over this. What would you have done if I _had_ killed him?"

Booth shakes his head, exhaling silently. "Look, Bones - I know we haven't exactly been working together long, but I _know_ you couldn't of killed that guy."

Brennan processes this for a second, scowling in confusion, "So, is that why you picked up the earring? Because you believed I could not have killed Graham?"

"No, Bones. I did that because that earring means something to you. And, well, you mean something to me." he replies, glancing off to the side in a way that if it were anyone else, she might have called it shyness.

She simply stares at him for a few moments, surprised, before a small smile lights up her face, "Thank you, Booth." she murmurs, leaning into him.

He blinks, mouth stretching into a wide grin as he curls an arm around her shoulders, pulling her tight against his side, tipping his head to press his cheek into the top of her hair. "Anytime, Bones." he assures quietly, words slurring with tiredness.

She knows she should leave at this point, let him get some actual sleep, but, the warmth of his body practically curled around her and the memory of waking up next to him in the hospital bed freezes her in place.

"G'night, Bones." he slurs suddenly, the arm around her shoulders falling to her waist, twisting them both surprisingly easily for a mostly asleep man, 'trapping' her between his frame and the back of the couch.

She smiles, melting into the cushions. "Good night, Booth." she whispers, words drowned out by his quiet snores.


	5. Chapter 4: Knowing You

"My name is Brennan. I'm Dr. - Dr. Temperance Brennan. I work at the Jeffersonian Institution. I'm a forensic anthropologist. I specialize in identify..." she pauses, a sob breaking loose from her chest, "in identifying - in identifying people when nobody knows who they are. My father was a science teacher. My mother was a bookkeeper. My brother - I have a brother. I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan."

Booth moves over, curling his arms tight around her middle as she buries her face into his neck, sobbing quietly. "I know who you are. Hey, I know. It's okay, I know." he murmurs against her temple, twisting them about so she was pressed against his side, carefully leading her out of the barn towards the SUV.

* * *

The trip back into D.C. is silent, not an awkward silence though, it's the silence of two people who are comfortable, happy even with each other's company.

At the first stop into the city, he glances over, a little surprised by how long the silence has lasted, only to find her sleeping against the window. His lips quirk up into a small smile as his attention turns back to the traffic, changing his destination from the Jeffersonian towards her house. Parking outside, he quietly moves out and around the car to slide her out of the seat into his arms. She makes a quiet noise in her sleep, burying her face into his chest.

Carefully making his way up the path, he shifts her slightly in his arms to slide the spare key she gave him out of his pocket and into the lock, moving quietly through the building towards the sitting room couch, placing her down gently.

She stirs, eyes fluttering halfway open, hand curling into a first against his shirt. "Could you stay, Booth?" she murmurs, already falling back to sleep, grip on his shirt loosening.

Booth takes a step back, Brennan's grip on his shirt tightening once more, eyes sliding open slowly. "Relax, Bones. Just taking off my shoes." he soothes, toeing them off. Her grip doesn't loosen though her eyes slip shut again. Sliding down onto the couch, he slides an arm around her waist, pulling her back into his chest.

She twists around to face him, nuzzling sleepily into his neck, humming low in her throat. "I'm glad you know me, Booth." she slurs against his throat.

"I'm glad I know you too, Bones." he assures quietly, feeling her relax into slumber against him.


	6. Chapter 5: Reoccurring Event

"I believe we should stop pretending this is not a reoccurring event."

Booth pauses, glancing up from his steak sandwich, blinking in confusion. "What're ya' talking about, Bones?"

" I am talking about us sleeping together, Booth."

He stares, choking on the sip of coffee he was attempting to take, "Jeez, Bones. Word it a little better, would ya'?"

She scowls, rolling her eyes at his eversion to discussions involving sexual content. "Fine." she snaps, "We should talk about the fact that, in the last few months, we have fallen asleep in an extremely close proximity several times. While it does not affect our working relationship yet, it will do eventually if we continue to ignore it."

He shifts on his stool, huffing silently. "There's nothing to talk about, Bones. We work together a lot, that involves a fair amount of late nights, which sometimes involves falling asleep." he shrugs, twisting on his stool to face her.

"No, Booth. Two weeks ago, during my mother's case, we fell asleep on my couch together. There was no work involved; it was the middle of the afternoon!"

"Are we having this conversation because you want it to stop happening? Because, if you-"

"No." she interrupts, "I believe we have a fairly close partnership and while some people may think it is strange for a man and a woman to be sleeping together without engaging in intercourse, I think it works for us. I - I enjoy your company, Booth. And I generally find myself better rested when we sleep together, even though we tend to fall asleep on a couch, or the floor."

He squinted slightly, brow furrowed in confusion, "Repeat that in English, Bones?"

"I enjoy falling asleep with you, Booth. I just feel that us ignoring the fact that it happens will, eventually put some strain on our partnership."

"We're not telling anyone from work, right?"

"Correct. I believe Angela might try and find some hidden meaning that simply does not exist."

"Right, Bones. No hidden meanings here."


	7. Chapter 6: What Happens in Vegas

They're both surprised the other doesn't make a protest, even just a token one at discovering the FBI has only booked them one room to share in Vegas.

Once inside, however, Booth offers to sleep on the couch, because, despite the fact they've slept together several times now, Booth has and will probably always offer her an opportunity to say no, which, while fitting with his usual gentlemanly behaviour, she believes is completely unnecessary.

As he expects her to, she turns down his offer and, after a quick glance at the time - 1:40am - they drop without preamble onto the double bed, kicking off shoes and pushing away jackets. They shift easily into their normal sleeping together positions, Brennan's back to Booth's chest, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist.

* * *

They return to their hotel room one step closer to solving two murders, but, underneath the eagerness to catch criminals, Brennan can see Booth's agitation, most likely from their trip to the casino earlier in the day. "Have you been undercover before?" she asks, hoping to distract him and genuine curiosity leading the conversation.

Booth nods, sliding easily out of his suit jacket, draping it carefully over one arm of the couch, "A few times, yeah. Nothing long-term, though. Month at the most." he shrugs, "Should be fine. Backstory's vague enough to not need too many details."

She hums in reply, dropping to sit down on the edge of the bed. She's not worried about going undercover, she's not even worried about Booth entering an underground boxing ring, she has seen him fight, knows the power in the muscular frame he hides under those suits. "We'll be fine." she agrees.

* * *

"That did not go as well as I'd hoped." Booth groans, following Brennan into their hotel room, carefully sitting down on the bed, cringing as his ribs protest the action.

Brennan frowns in concern, moving forwards to ease Booth out of his muscle-top, pushing his shoulder gently until he lays down, "Wait here." she insists, disappearing into the bathroom. She returns a minute later carrying a fairly large bowl of warm water, a hand towel and a roll of bandages extracted from her duffel bag.

While she was gone, Booth has shifted, sitting up against the pillows, poking warily at his own ribs, wincing a second later. He glances up at her, curious "Bones?"

"You have several cuts that need cleaning and more-than-likely broken ribs bones that need wrapping." she replies simply, kneeling on the bed next to him, dress riding slowly up past her knees, towards her thighs.

Noticing his glance downwards and the flush that covers his ears spreading down over his cheeks, Brennan feels pleased and a little less ashamed of the glances she had made towards his chest through the bathroom mirror while she had been filling the bowl.

* * *

Normally, she would even think about it, but, the next day when they arrive at the airport, she pays to have his seat bumped up to first-class. It _honestly_ has nothing to do with the blinding grin he sends her way and everything to do with the fact that she would spend the entire flight worried about his ribs in those terrible seats.

About thirty minutes into the flight, the sleeping medication she made him take kick in. And, despite him _knowing_ about the reclining seats, he simply raises the armrest between them, twisting around to use his seat as a mattress and her lap as a pillow. Even though she knows he would never do this un-medicated, she still feels a ball of warmth settle in her gut as she rests one hand on his shoulder, the other holding an anthropological journal open.

"See y' when we land, Bones." he slurs, tugging a travel blanket up and over himself.

She smiles, relaxing back into her seat as they back towards home.


End file.
